The tale of the time traveling douchebag
by Tantriception
Summary: When your long lost guardian is zapped into your lounge room you find yourself at a loss of words. Thankfully for you said guardian as enough words to make it up for the two of you.
1. Chapter 1

/This is chapter one, I've got number two locked and loaded for publish too./

You've always been aware that there was something missing, a spec of yourself that you had lost. A splinter lost among the masses, unbeknownst to you of what exactly it is. It isn't until you take an interest to studying old films that you realise what you're missing. You're missing a caretaker, someone to look over you as you grow and progress into adult hood. Someone who loves you unconditionally and shows that affection through providence and protection. You've always had your puppet Lil' Cal there for you, he listens to your problematic teenage issues and is always there for the occasional hug when you're feeling a little too down on yourself.

But Cal just can't provide the things that are shown through your computer screen. Lil' Cal can't fuss over your current state of health; or teach you about small things that he's learnt through past experiences. As much as you tell your friends otherwise, Lil' Cal is just a puppet. Your standby guardian that you've used as a security blanket along the years, something to shield yourself from the reality of alien things you are secretly afraid of.

After a few years of constant bickering, constant snide remarks and prosperous amounts of useless threats you finally brought it to yourself to structure out an actual body for your artificial intelligence, your auto responder; Hal. The progress was slow and painful not to mention tedious. You thought that maybe towards the aspect of a body, he would be more cooperative to the progress of you making it. But he fucking wasn't. He was the biggest pain throughout the entire process, having the audacity to complain towards how his body was structured.

That he wasn't buff enough or something other along the lines of bullshit he sprouted at you.

He was always somewhat inclined to take liberties to all your actions, but you never question it as much as you tended to a few years back. When you made him you were only that of thirteen. You felt more empty and hollow at thirteen to what you do now, your bitterness and resentment towards others around you showed to how introverted you were. It was like nobody could hear you; your voice screamed from your roof tops and bleed throughout the skies, yet no one was there to hear you. He is a splinter of your thirteen year old self, or to a better sense _was. _He's made himself a different persona all together, showing only bits and pieces of what he was.

Soon after your making of him you discovered the three greatest people you could ever wish to call your friends. You were still distant, you couldn't feel them, and the touch of their skin under your fingertips as you hugged them. The sound of their laughter towards one of your strictly ironic remarks. They were still either on the other side of your broken world, or trapped between tundras and different time placements different to your own.

Roxy was the first you met, she understood you the most in comparison to your other friends. She would sit there with you for countless hours as you both pieced together the history of your crumbled worlds past. You shared with her the countless articles you'd scraped together on your searches throughout the internet. You both found it enticing that the most commonly featured articles beared two people quite similar to yourselves. It wasn't until you searched through the boxes in your closet that you pieced together the pieces to the puzzle of who they were. After the discovery of their names and the countless amounts of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff merchandize you realized were scattered along your apartment; and the amounts of books strewn among Roxy's room you both came to the conclusion. Rose Lalonde and Dave Strider were your guardians. The film director of the world changing comedy francize and the famous book writer were the two people you were both missing.

The caretaker you found yourself craving as a child, missing something you had never had. That's what kept you so entwined with Roxy. It wasn't that you were both in the same timelines; it was that you were both missing the same thing. You were both missing the affection and nourishment of the guardian you secretly craved.

In fact, all your friends were missing something. If not of themselves then something of dire importance. That's what called you all together; you were all broken and lost. You edged yourselves away from the distant feeling, to try and grab hold of someone who felt the same as you. Your friend Jane hadn't to your knowledge lost something as great as your other friends. But she was still lonely, she was still equal, and you loved Jane. You loved all three of your friends in the least ironic way possible.

You love Roxy and her long ramblings, bringing humour into situations where you needed something to smile at. You love Jane with her devious quirks, love for mystery and leadership towards your group of friends.

You also love Jake English, and his obnoxious love for the shittiest of old films, the way he words his sentences so that despite his slight ditziness to the situation still looked well mannered.

Your love for Jake English use to stand a little over the line of platonic, something your auto responder constantly teased and reminded you of any chance he managed to forge it. The feeling had managed to fade, the two of you danced around the subject for the longest of times, your remarks always going misunderstood as he never seemed to understand what exactly you were cutting at.

You're actually glad the entire situation went by unnoticed by him. You feel as though if he did go through with the concept of being in a relationship with you, it would be slightly forced; he'd only accept to avoid the awkward rejection that would stand between you. You know that's just his heart of being a huge softy, but you'd hate for things to fall out that way between the two of you.

You sighed to yourself quietly, the sound of Hal restacking boxes of random ironic objects echoes in the distance. There aren't many times you find yourself sitting on your bed, contemplating the most random occurrences over another one of your cans of Sunkist. None of your friends seem to be online at the moment and you've found yourself too unmotivated to go onto the roof.

The stillness of the air changes its course, it starts swaying slightly as though there were a breeze and it causes you to look up from your latest intake of soda. You hear Hals movements stop in the distance as he peers his head through your door way.

Before either of your silent questions can go answered a lighting blue flash passes between the two of you, a crackling tear as a form is zapped into your bedroom, falling limply to the floor as the crackling sound falls to a buzz.

You nearly choke on your sip of Sunkist, but you're not one to spit take. Hal and you both peer over the body lying in a mass of red on your carpet. This was the first introduction of your guardian Dave Strider.


	2. Chapter 2

/I'm sorry this chapter isn't as edited that much, I finally got my acceptance to ao3 if anyone wants to check out this story there, it's probably a better bet. /works/708597?view_adult=true /

"Well I guess this is adios." Dave mumbled as he pulsed a hand through his lightly coloured blonde hair, his hand running through to drop back at his neck and fall slack to his side. "We don't know what the exact outcome will be, Dave." Rose stood timidly balanced as she softly grasped her knitting rods between her fingertips. "You're right; but all bets here are on death as far as we're going." He retorted, his remarks not showing the usual kick and flavoursome sting, his voice a bit more tiresome and wary.

"I just."

"I just wish I could meet him."

His voiced echoed out in the slightest drawl, feeling raw against his looked up to meet his shaded gaze for a moment, before taking a second of adjustment and nodding in understanding. "So do I, we've left them all we can, they'll be alright." He nodded at her simplistic antidote, her quirky remarks and therapeutic conclusions not showing to greater terms on this day, he had to admit to himself that she was right. That's what they did, they stayed back with what resources they had and began preparing for the child that never was.

It was of coarse heart breaking to the both of you that the first time you both allow yourselves to become consumed with excitement; it just had to slip away past your fingertips.

The countless times you've had conversations over the matter are less to what they should be. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find yourself melancholy after a pester with Rose about the whole matter.

TT: We both knew this was going to be the outcome we take, that we'd find ourselves twisted along with the bitter irony.

TG: i know

TG: god i know

TG: i wish i could take the time to appreciate the irony that but i cant

TG: it just makes me feel miserable

TG: i had so much planned rose

TG: i was going to show him places hed never seen and teach him so much that his anime shades would start to burst with all my ironic knowledge

TT: Yes, I do feel the same about my own. I wanted to teach her the newest forms of literature, show her places, providing the time that I should have given her a long time ago.

TG: i hate myself for getting so excited about the whole thing

TG: hell even bro taught me better than that

TG: dont expect anything from life and youll never be disappointed

But that was a while ago, you had both managed to scrape together two fairly well structured time capsules for their arrival.

An arrival you most likely would never attend for. You've had your time to mourn over the people you never lost to begin with, managed to grow use to the fact you'd never see them.

Regardless, it's all still difficult.

A soft smiled edged her lips and she gently clasped Dave's hand. He peered over to here, a small grin splitting across his mouth at her usual off standing smile.

The duo stood side by side, hands clutched together with partly raised weapons in each spare hand. Small ticks and chimes of clockwork chopping into place ringing behind them both. The bright bleak pale paper flash and the sudden exploding boom of white noise taking both unexpectedly as they were suddenly engulfed and blinded by a sudden zap.

When you first completed squarewave, you quickly turned off the power switch and ran off to huddle underneath the warmth of your bed, shivering at the sound of his voice. You had never heard anything or anyone speak to you and only you.

It took you another few hours of contemplating before you took up the courage to timidly walk over to him. Taking a deep breath as you flicked the switch back and watched him whirl to life.

Having him around was so alien to you, he was constantly there asking you how you were, or if you wanted to rap. When he first asked, nearly broke down in front of him.

You had never heard your own name being spoken to you before, it was different, but not in a bad way.

He says that you're his homie; that you're his bro. You know that he's referring to simplistic street lingo but knowing someone, or something is calling you that of a family member excites and terrifies you.

Building Hal was an entirely different matter. His voice was programmed and structured to sound similar to yours. It isn't exactly a replica, and you're glad with that. You wouldn't want to speak to somebody who replies with an echo of a voice the same as your own. When you finally transported all his informational data into his new body, you were both startled. You wanted to go into your bed and muffle screams with your pillow as he probably wanted to do the same.

Instead it was an awkward pass by of you asking a series of necessary questions to make sure he was functioning properly.

Afterwards he huddled beneath your bed and started reciting all of Shakespearian literature in binary code.

But when you first encountered Dave you couldn't exactly find it in your voice to form words. He was lying limpidly unconscious on your lounge room floor as the two of you looked down at him.

"Whoa." Hal's voice replicated one to your own; a slight expression of what could be awe. You looked up at him as though silently asking him what to do. "He's not my guardian." He shrugged you off casually, walking away to eventually ruin your small apartment once again.

Was he your guardian? You quickly rushed to your desk to pull forward one of the draws. Revealing overloads of articles and transcripts that threatened to spill out, transcripts you'd collect throughout your search in the apartment.

You rummage through to find one singular picture, its colors are faded and the sides were starting to crinkle, but you still held the cut out to safety for memorabilia purposes. The man in the picture would have to be around his late twenties; hair blonde tinging towards albino, with a straight standing posture, shaded eyes masked behind Ben Stiller shades and faintest trace of a smirk. Bringing the photograph to view you did a quick scanning comparison to the two of them. You already knew the answer would be positive, just the reassurance to the matter being too surreal needed to be confirmed for your mind to truly register it.

You're not sure to scream, laugh, or cry. You manage to mask yourself behind periods of time were nothing causes to faze you. That the world would explode or tidal waves collapse and the only reaction you can seem to fathom is "Oh." That numb feeling starts edging back when you look at him, but you can't stop yourself from nearly trembling with a small childish excitement too.

'The phrase goes; never meet your heroes. He may never be what you wanted as a kid; he might just be some douche that took his job to save the world in greater consideration that you. Not that I can actually blame him.' You quickly shake the thoughts out of your head like a virus and lean over so that your weight it buckling under your knees.

Afraid to touch him you let one hand wander towards his shoulder to shake him wake slightly, he grumbles softly in the action with urges you to do it more.

"Yo, Bro, wake up."


	3. Chapter 3

"Should I try flinging him off the roofs edge?" Hal leaned off the edge of the door way, watching the awkwardly functioning teenager in shaking his newly enrolled guardian awake. Dirk didn't give a response, but Hal knew despite how sensibly equipped his synax was, Dirk was surely giving him a mental 'Fuck you dude, this isn't the time.'

The alien feeling of another human being there in your reach is still more imitating than anything you could've prepared yourself for. He's in the living flesh right before you, he's so human and so alive that you honestly feel the need to take a breather and take about thirty steps back until you plummet to the oceans edge. But you don't, you can't. You're Dirk Strider and you've got a mind that never seems to let yourself escape from the grasps of realities pull. You're not going to fail among your insecurities at the knowledge of knowing your guardian could wake up to see your acts of stupidity at any given moment.

You remembered being younger, picturing what it would be like to meet him, to greet all your friends and finally experience the physical standards of being next to them. The bubbling excitement that pooled and rushed against your stomach at the thought, but you had greater things to keep to mind now, at how your childish fantasy was forming a reality.

Your head was pounding and throbbing against your skull. Everything felt thick and sludgy, your muscles and joints aching and throbbing under pressure. Feeling torn and partially broken you murmur a few small curses before flinging an arm over your eyes to protect them from the surely oncoming burst of light that would ensue if opening them. Your teeth grit and your ears practically whine in protest as the soft wavering of a voice reaches them, following with a cool distanced metallic voice that echoed in the background.

Finally pushing your forearm away you're greeted with a blinding spot of colors. Your vision already being masked by your shades make the color recognition harder for you to fathom, yet you need to give yourself a second to adjust. What happened? Surely you would've died along side Rose in a battle that mostly one hundred percent guaranteed lead towards your fateful demise.

You're in a room that's slightly ageing from the state of the celling paint, the fresh scent of salt and the untamed squawk of seagulls coming from above you. The gentle crash of waves brushing along currents waves beneath your feet. You're perking up to see a clearer picture of your surroundings, but before you find time to closely examine every aspect of the small spaced room a boy is leaning over your body. His lips are moving but your ears take a few moments to get up to date with what he's saying.

He calls you 'bro', he asks if you're alright and you give the most sluggish of nods in response. He helps lift you off the ground and you can't help but nearly tumble over him as your legs slowly become jelly.

Drunkly you try to formulate the right words to ask him questions, questions that could become answered if you took just a moment to sober yourself and observe your surroundings. Before you know what's happening you're gently getting pushed back onto the soft surface of a bed, the covers engulfing you cozily, deciding who ever would offer this amount of comfort can't have such cruel intentions as to murder, you let your hazed mind drift away, falling asleep to the gentle hum of bickering.

"He's alright, he's just. Well I don't honestly know, I'm fairly sure his intentions weren't to just appear here, if they were he'd be more prepared, and would actually show signs to knowing who I am." You turn off to Hal as he smugly holds an empty box at his waist, both of you are looking over Dave for a moment as he snores in his sleep, you leading the two of you off into the kitchen.

"Well he's defiantly related to you, listen to that snore he's belting." You harshly roll your eyes behind your shades, wanting nothing other than to flip him the bird. But Dave rolls over before you close your bedroom door and the soft click that follows behind it.

"What do we do now?" Hal asks you, playing with the knob attached to the toaster, something you've been meaning to improve for little over a month now.

"We'll just have to wait." You yank the knob and toaster off his metallic fingers as you set the toaster on the counter to finish the job you've been set to do for nearly over a month.

When you finally wake your head is clearing of the fog you'd jumped into and is whirling down the road of sober thought. You instantly push yourself to sit among the covers as you quickly examine your surroundings.

You need a moment to pause. Wait, this is your brothers room. You've been working on this for months to level out the right layers of irony to leave behind a good legacy for the child that would raise himself in here alone. This couldn't be his room, unless you managed to get yourself wasted to the point you moved the furniture in his room, used half of the appliances, slept in his single bed and sewed several forms of smuppets.

You kick the covers away and slide over to the desk, grimacing slightly when an enduring squeak hits your foot as you burst past a smuppet. The name 'Dirk Strider' is carved into sliver, it's older to what you remembered it as, the silver dimmed of its usual shine. There are papers scattering the desk, all in askew angles laying about his desk and floor. You stack the pages among your hands and flip through a few of the bindings with a raised eyebrow.

These are blue prints, all crafting plans into creating the newest advancement in robotic technology, these are structures in how the sculpturing of hands would marble together with the joints and muscles. Replicating every muscle and impulsive reflex that are nearly quicker to the millisecond than an average humans.

This is work of a genius, whoever is squatting here surely knows their way around. But you're filled with pride, it's childish to assume that this is the work of the boy you never raised, and that the noises you hear beyond that door aren't just that of a strangers but that of a brothers. Your little brother, the one you were destined to raise, but never were suppose to live to see the chance.

When the bickering pull behind the door becomes more louder you awkwardly trip your way over to the door to see who is behind, still hanging balanced on your newly sobered feet.

/ basically all that happens in this chapter is poo and I'm gomen

this is badly edited since I wrote it at 5 am, I left it to a short cliffhanger because of my tired lazy habits


	4. Chapter 4

You're basically fighting with Hal, again.

If it weren't for his smooth robotic analysis and your position to keep your cool, a full blown fight would be starting to commence. Fire beams would be shooting out of each other's gaze in pure rage and annoyance to the others presence. You're not even sure what the fight started with, you were busy occupying yourself when suddenly he appeared behind your shoulder, pushing you to the edge with a soft poke of a wrench.

You're about to raise your voice slightly higher than usual when the sudden abrupt squeak of the door issues you to both stop, freeze framing yourselves to both look who was there. It's then you automatically remember you've left somebody important passed out in your room and haven't for the past hour and a half bothered to check him out.

He stands much taller than you, his eyes are masked behind shades and his posture seems to be awkwardly wavering between that of confidence and insecurity. You're pretty sure only you'd be able to pin point that fact since to any other gazing eyes he'd look as though he swayed his way in, independent and confident. His hair is a lighter shade than yours and there are faint hints of freckles that sprinkle along his cheek bones and trail down his neck.

There's a silence that falls between all three of you and you know he's analysing you just as much as you are him. You both know, you have to. If the common resemblance in facial features wasn't enough, the cool exterior that vibrates off the two of you needs to be dead set correction to the answer.

But you still need confirmation, something that pieces everything together one hundred precent, worded; so that your mind can fully devour the information without temporarily feeling wheezy. You stand fairly quickly, walking over to him. You can feel Hal's gaze penetrating through the back of your skull but you ignore it as you set your shaded eyes upon his.

"Bro?"

The words are more foggier and slugged out then you would want them to be, not having many people to talk to leaves you having the lowest to social compatibility. You can practically feel the sigh of relief cut through the air like a knife as his shoulder sag nearly visibly.

"Shit, it's actually you, huh?" His words scare you, the fact somebody else is breathing, with their heart beating, mindset ticking and are talking right to you just as itself scares you silly, but you're never going to show it.

He leans down slightly to reach your eye level, inspecting you more closely, and you're actually filled with the childish nervousness of wanting acceptance from him. That just by a glance he'll suddenly know who you are, and not accept your personality, or worse; be disappointed in the outcome of who you are. It's then that you're covered in an embrace that's filled with a filling lose and the masking hint of cologne. You're actually terrified for the first couple of seconds as all your muscles tense and freeze up along with your mind set. It takes a few seconds for you to register and give the short meaningful hug back, pulling away to only then be greeted with a fist bump.

"Hey." You're playing out your cool; he's left enough ironic messages for you to piece together and know that this is his way of things, his way. The façade and the cool expressional demeanour, it's your lifestyle, it's the Strider lifestyle, and you've taught yourself to live by its submissions.

"Hey." He greets you back with the slightest nod, when he looks up to gaze behind your shoulder you can see the faint out lining of his eyes, ones that you hope to your belief are as oddly coloured as yours. "Who's the tin-can?" Your eyes peek over to turn to the side as your android is placing himself together in front of the two of you, his vibrant red eyes dimmed behind his thin black shades.

"He's my android; Hal. I created him based to a copy of my thirteen year old self." You're worrying if that was too much of a mouth full to be spewing straight away, to not suddenly bite the bullet so fast and get right into things. As though this was some mistreated family reunion, which you guess to a technicality, it is.

He briskly walks over to your robot, leaning forward to drink in Hal's appearance, his metal joints and metallic features glistening against the sunlight blistering from the small window beside your kitchen table.

"You made this?" His voice emanated that of awe and you can't help the surge of triumph that floods through your systems as he actually sounds impressed. You've always pictured and portrayed your brother to be someone who is not easily fathomed, unless shown with something of magnificence.

"That's a rude way to describe 'this'." Hal cuts through your self-emitting pride only to dimmer it down with the sound of his own similar sounding metallic voice. "He did just tell you I have been programmed and created with a name." He's being a smartass again and you hate that he got those traits from you. Especially in a time where your androids sass isn't entirely needed.

"He's got an attitude, can he spar?" You nod silently nod even though he can't actually see your reaction. Hal practically huffed in response, turning away on his heel to storm away into another room.

"He specialises in the art of throwing tantrums." You remark as your android leaves the room.

"What are you talking about? He was a blast." You can fill his smirking grin fill into his voice as he says that, despite the nonchalant look plastered across his face.

"Anyway, want to show your old guy around?"


	5. Chapter 5

It's been nearly a week or so since Dave has been issued into your home; though home is too great of a word to describe such a thing as to where you live. It's an apartment with legs; it's your own little square of irony that's creased below with ocean. You'd rather call it your 'smuppet pad of boarder line filth' but you suppose that doesn't cut the memo. Dave's actually grown onto you, you're sure that he feels mutual, though your bluntness to most situations tends to nerve him slightly, probably because you're such a weird kid.

One of the last kids to live in this broken world.

He finds your unknowing knowledge to his time periods culture amusing, finding your ability to make ingenious creations that of a fascination. You like your goes at witty back to forth dialog, his continuously endless rants and his rambles to that of his old times.

Though you'd never find it in yourself to admit this fact to his face.

You teach him how to catch fish and he yanks one in nearly the first hour, which is very impressive since he's a claimed amateur. That evening you spend cooking with some chill down time, grilling up some fish with spitting rhymes, talking to Jane over pesterchum and a half hour spar watch between Dave and your android mind clone Hal.

It's not until you wake up later that night, to the bustling sound of rolling metals against iron steel joints. You roll over to find your source of sound only to see a vacantly dimmed pair of glowing red eyes, that are masked behind the confinements of triangular anime shades.

"Dirk." The voice he echoes to you comes out monotonous and cold to another. Whilst to you it sounds bearing and questioning.

Rubbing your palm beneath your eye lid you surpass a yawn towards Hal, sitting up in your bed to turn to him.

"What's up Hal, you alright? Or do you need another update for the newest instalment hard drive?"

He looks into your eyes, shaking his head lightly, barely imitating a sound from the action. His movements whirling in such an impressive demeanour you're actually glad your newly found guardian took time to actually admire your handy work and praise you for it.

"No, it's alright. I'm perfectly capable towards handling my own transactions. I've just got a question."

You raise a brow questioningly, curious as to what Hal, your incredibly independent android wants to ask.

"Am I supposed to feel this way?"

You raise an oblivious eye brow at his words, knowing exactly what he means, just needing to hear the words plagued out from his metallic lips. "What do you mean? What is it that's making you fee-"

He actually sighs; it's a small sound that's barely noticeable if you two weren't nearly exact mind copies. "You know exactly what the issue is, Dirk, you just want to hear me confess it." He turns his gaze away from you to look somewhere over in the corner, avoiding your shaded gaze. "It's Dave. It's having a 'bro'; it's having somebody who I've admittedly grown attached to, only to be torn away again. That I'm allowing myself to feel for something that I know will end badly."

Well, that speech of his has trickled you to silence.

"We're both so venerable." He adds as an afterthought, gazing out your moon lit window, as the soft sound of crisp waves crashing against the sturdy poles that structure and hold together your apartment. Your fingers play with the ends of the fabric on your covers, running over the hemming as you calculate in your head something that isn't narcissistic to say out loud.

"I know." Is basically all you can pathetically fathom as comfort at the moment, which is fairly sad and makes your abilities as a human with emotions and a running thought network feel at its lowest. You're not being a comfort for him in anyway and you know it, it's funny that this situation should be swapped so that it where the other way around. The robot is meant to help the human and fail endlessly with the trouble f emotions. Not the human failing with conflict whilst the robot has a downfall. You sigh quietly, looking away from him only for a second, looking back up to add more onto your simplistic sentence, only to see that he's disappeared, Hal has flash stepped and vanished from your overcrowded dimly lit room.

The night ends there, you go back to sleep into the warmth of your covers as the wind harshly hits against the covers, shivering quietly underneath the cool air. Your diet of fish and orange crush soda doesn't leave your body in the best of shapes. Leaving yourself sick on countless occasions, having to repair yourself.

Your name is Dave Strider, your first week or so of being an official guardian have gone more smoothly to what you'd imagined it to be. Considering that the child you're looking after is a near perfected genius with the full capability towards looking after himself, it actually saddens you that you haven't had your moment to show any proper parental structure yet. You've felt more so as though you're just a guest crashing at his house, as though he were the more mature one in this situation. You suppose he is, having to be forced to grow up faster than you'd ever imagined a child to be, when he spoke of his friends from different times and different places you couldn't help but put two and two together when he claimed that he and Roxy haven't grown up with any parental guidance. He made a snide joke to how now that you're finally here he can watch 18+ movies because he has the parental guidance for a movie a few years older than him.

The sound of the clock ticking away and stealing away your needed time doesn't comfort you, it just makes you anxious. It's been morning for a few hours, and you're surprised Dirk hasn't woken up before you like he usually does. When you push the sheets away and stand you move to his room to check to see if he actually took the time to sleep last night.

When the door creaks open you find the teenager hidden among the sheets, curled inwards into a ball and from what you can see at this distance his form is slightly wavering and trembling. As you move closer to him you can already tell that he's got a fever, you can actually feel the heat morphing off from his bod and it leaves you malcontented that he hadn't mentioned feeling ill in anyway at all. You're not sure whether to silently praise his ability to hide such a thing, or have the overloading protective guardian instinct to make sure he's alright and lecture him to tell you otherwise next time he's ill.

You sit on the side of his bed, his body moving closure to you at the sudden mixture of body temperature; you lay an arm across his shoulder and try not to panic when you feel his temperature rising as he's slowly sweating under the heat of his own body and the sheets.

'It's just his body fighting the fever off, there isn't much you can do but be the guardian you're meant to be and stay here for him.'

It makes you sad to know that he's done this before, he's been sick and he's been alone.

/ Can you tell I half assed the start and forgot to edit nearly all of this?

Sorry, I really did just want to upload something towards my lack of everything lately.


End file.
